


Sometimes Quiet is Violent

by lahdolphin



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Hallucinations, Self Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lahdolphin/pseuds/lahdolphin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nic wasn’t there when the hallucinations started, but of course a deaf man would understand how unsettling the silence can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sometimes Quiet is Violent

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before Alex realizes she's going through withdrawal and has just started hallucinating. Also, I just finished reading the series so this may be a bit OOC. I don't really know.

The water burned down her back, reddening and burning dark skin. She could no longer feel his hands on her, the water far hotter than the memory of his heavy breath on her neck, the memory of pain numbed by the burn.

Worick had been gone all day doing work, doing _someone_ , given the day of the week. And Nic… Alex could never tell if he was in or out. He made little noise. There was no noise to block that man's voice from her mind. 

_Dirty whore. Why are you running from me?_

She turned the water up higher, body jerking, and braced her hands on the slick tiles. Stop thinking. Stop thinking, stop thinking, _stop thinking_.

She was alone. How could he be here? He was dead. She shot him. His warm blood touched her and stained her shoes. She watched as the heat left his body. Yet she could not get hot enough to make the thoughts go away. 

_You expectin’ me to come in there with you, slut? Is that what you’re waiting for?_

She heard the front door open and close, the sound of heavy boots moving around the rooms, doors opening and closing. She sucked in a shallow, panicked breath. Was he here?

No. He was gone. She shot his dead body with her own hands.

If it were Worick, he would have called out. That meant Nic, which made more sense—he wouldn’t be able to hear the shower running.

When they were here, she could not hear that man's horrible voice. The quiet gave her demon a chance to speak. Silence was her worst fear, and so often she was left in this unfamiliar place, alone and in silence, and she could not hide from his voice or her thoughts. No one to talk to, no one to distract herself with, nothing to do but sit in her own thoughts. 

The bathroom door finally opened. Alex froze as Nic walked inside.

“I got your damn cigarettes.”

Alex didn’t say anything. How did Worick and Nic act in private? Would Worick respond? Alex couldn’t say anything—Nic couldn’t hear for Christ’s sake—but would Worick reach out of the shower and sign? Nic could tell it was her. Her hand looked nothing like Worick's.

“You hear me?”

Nic tapped on the shower curtain, the fabric rattling. The steam helped hide whatever minimal silhouette showed through the thick curtain.

“It’s fuckin’ hot in here.”

The curtain was opened. Alex’s arms left the wall, but they did not cover her bare body. She stared at Nic, horrified, the hot water burning her front, the burning pain fresh against untouched nerves. Her back tingled and his voice was gone.

Nic’s eyes widened, but he did not look at her body. He never looked at her body.

He reached above her, dipping his hand into the water, and hissed as he pulled his hand away.

He looked at her—naked and exposed, raw and burned, tears in her eyes and that bastard’s voice coming from somewhere. She saw him behind Nic, standing there, alive and real and moving. 

_Slut._

She snapped her eyes shut and backed away from Nic, slipping. 

He caught her by the arm and pulled her out of the shower. He let go of her wrist and she dropped to the floor, shaking. He turned off the shower. Seconds later, he was squatting in front of her, wrapping a large towel around her shoulders and gently touching her shoulders. He helped her stand, made her walk, set her down on the sofa.

She pulled at the dry towel around her shoulders, the fabric rubbing against her burns. She looked up at Nic, who stood silently in front of her.

Face blank, he signed, _Why?_

Alex did not know the sign. She did not want to talk. She did not trust her voice to be steady, or her lips to move properly for Nic to understand her. She spelled it out letter by letter.

_A-L-O-N-E._

_Q-U-I-E-T._

Nic stared at her. She dropped her eyes to the floor.

She heard him move, but didn’t bother to look to see where he was going. She did not want to be alone again, but she could not ask him to stay. She didn’t know the first thing about him. She could ask Worick, perhaps, but she was not so weak. She had dealt with much worse by herself. She did not need to ask for help now.

A glass of water came into her view, Nic’s hand holding the cup.

She looked up at him. His rough voice said, “Drink.”

She took the glass, took a sip, moved the towel to feel the pain of the burns. She was warm all over but the water was cool.

He signed something at her. She couldn't make out all the words.

_I—down_

_Worick—home—quick?_

Nic would be downstairs. Worick would be home soon.

She nodded.

He kept signing. She struggled to follow.

_If—need—don’t—_

She frowned.

Nic ground his teeth together. “If you need help, don’t knock.” He shoved his hands into his pocket and went downstairs, the door shutting behind him.

 


End file.
